


didnt they want your blood? so why apologize for being blue and cold?

by Anonymous



Category: Aladdin (1992)
Genre: Coping, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Im Projecting, Nightmares, Post-Canon, Trauma, big ol trigger warning for discussion of grooming and shit, i wrote this to vent, i’ve never watched the sequels or the tv series, nothing bad is depicted but it’s talked about, nothing is glorified, well jafar doesn’t actually appear but he’s thoroughly discussed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27093448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: It wasn’t enough for Jafar to be gone; his presence still lingered. Jasmine couldn’t scrub her lips clean.
Relationships: Aladdin/Jasmine (Disney)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18
Collections: Anonymous





	didnt they want your blood? so why apologize for being blue and cold?

**Author's Note:**

> i haven’t had an actual therapy session in months, is it showing? sorry for being mentally ill i don’t do it on purpose...

Jasmine couldn’t sleep. 

This wasn’t unusual, of course. Her insomnia was awful. When she did manage to fall asleep, bad dreams would wake her up. How many nights had she spent pacing in her bedroom, begging her mind to stop racing, to stop jumping back to places she didn’t wanna think about? She wouldn’t be able to count. 

It wasn’t fair. Aladdin and the Sultan didn’t  _ get _ it. Sure, what happened was scary, but Jafar is gone now, you’ll never have to deal with him again, we’ve got you. It was empty comfort. It wasn’t enough for Jafar to be gone; his presence still lingered. Jasmine couldn’t scrub her lips clean. His beard still seemed to prick at her chin. His cold fingers, his wandering eyes, his stupid fucking voice— 

She had gotten bad vibes from him from day one. Even as a little girl, she simply didn’t trust the vizier. She loved her father dearly, but the years of trust he let Jafar earn from him were something that would take time to forgive. It wasn’t the Sultan’s fault that he was so trusting, so forgiving, but how Jasmine wished she could have just turned him around, made him face the dark look in Jafar’s eyes and the sick smirk on his face, the tall, imposing presence that screeched bad intentions louder than the screeching parrot perched on his shoulder. Even the goddamn parrot was evil, of course it was. Everything the man touched was tainted. 

Including Jasmine. 

No matter how conservatively she dressed, a part of her was still in a skimpy outfit a man near three times her age forced her to wear. She’d never wear red again, she swore to herself. No matter how many times she kissed Aladdin and it felt right, the ghost of Jafar’s lips wouldn’t leave. He crept into her bed by way of nightmares and he crept into her mind whenever it was given reign to wander. 

Don’t overthink things, Jasmine. If you think too much about it you’ll work yourself up and you’ll start crying again. You’re gonna wake Aladdin up and then he’ll ask what’s wrong and you’ll have to explain and he might not say it but the look in his eyes will say “oh, just that again?” and the comfort he gives you will be surface-level, and then he’ll fall back asleep and you’ll be left to your thoughts again and you’ll be wondering why that didn’t work and why he couldn’t fix it. 

She ran a hand through her hair, taking deep breaths. She tried to think about anything else. Literally anything else, come on, please. It didn’t work. No matter what she imagined, it turned into Jafar. 

Jasmine pursed her lips together and squeezed her eyes shut. Nope nope nope open them open them. One guess who she saw in her mind’s eye when she didn’t have her bedroom to look at. 

She hated when this happened. And it happened a lot. Trapped by her own mind, thoughts flying at her like arrows. Why wasn’t she  _ over _ it by now? She  _ won _ . She got the boy, the bad guy was defeated, everything was fine, roll credits. This was how Jafar got the last laugh, she mused. No amount of gold could pry the memory of his eyes off of her curves and his mouth off of her lips and his fingers off of her shoulders. 

She exhaled through her teeth and her breath turned shuddery. Don’t cry, Jasmine. Get a hold of yourself. He can’t hurt you anymore. 

How unfair was it, how sick was it, that she was  _ raised  _ in his presence, that he was always looming in the corner as she matured from a dear little child to a bratty preteen to a headstrong princess, that his unwelcome guidance and advice was there for as long as she could remember… and that he tried what he tried. He thought about her like  _ that _ and he acted on it. She couldn’t fathom Jafar seeing her as anything other than a child, and that sickened her even more. She sure still felt like one. 

Maybe this was why Aladdin and her father didn’t take her seriously about this. She had never really expressed all this to them. Just that she had bad memories and she wanted to stop thinking about it so badly. She wouldn’t have taken her seriously either, especially with each passing day putting distance between the present and the past. 

She cast a glance at Aladdin sleeping next to her. He looked so peaceful. She could only imagine how poorly he must have slept on the streets, and sometimes — often, really — he still acted like the street rat she’d first met all that time ago. He was still a little too on edge, a little rough around the edges in ways Jasmine had never had to think about. He had his own share of scars. Stupid selfish her, working herself into panic attacks from her cozy position as the  _ princess _ while her lover was walking proof that there were folks who had it much worse — no, no, don’t think like that. Thinking like that will only make things worse. It’s not a competition. 

She didn’t want to wake him up. To the contrary, frankly, she just wanted to fall asleep next to him and to wake up in the morning and feel better. But she wasn’t in the headspace to sleep right now; she knew what she would dream of if she did. 

Jasmine realized she was trembling. Nothing new; she’d discovered it was easy to work yourself into an upset shaky mess. She wasn’t going to wake Aladdin up. She could handle this. 

Jafar’s hands. They were cold. His fingers were long. He had put his hands on Jasmine. Her shoulders. Her face. Where else did he want to put them. Where else did he think about putting them. What did he want from her. What would he have done to her. 

She shook her head to dispel the thought but it wouldn’t go. Jafar’s lips. She had kissed him. She had no choice. It was to buy Aladdin time. If she hadn’t kissed him then he would have had to free reign to kiss her himself. And he wouldn’t have been content with just a kiss. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t her fault! She didn’t ask for any of it! 

Jasmine registered Aladdin stirring in bed next to her. He blinked his sleepy eyes a few times before he appeared awake, and as soon as he looked at her he looked concerned. 

“Jasmine? Jasmine, you’re crying.” He sat up quick. “What’s wrong?”

“Wait, what?” He was right, she realized. She was so lost in her own little world she hadn’t even noticed. 

“Is everything alright? Wait, no, of course it’s not. What — what isn’t alright?” He put a tentative hand on hers and she felt so… guilty. She had woken him up. His hand was calloused and warm, his fingers wide and round. She liked his hands. They were the opposite of Jafar’s that were too smooth and too cold and too skinny. 

Jasmine let out a breath. It came out shaky and jagged. She swallowed. Aladdin didn’t take his eyes off her for a second; even with her gaze pointed downwards she could feel warm brown eyes full of concern and worry peering at her. His eyes, too, were everything that Jafar’s weren’t. Aladdin’s eyes were kind, they were nice to get lost in, they were warm and inviting. 

“Jasmine. Jasmine, talk to me. Are you okay?” His voice, so soft and yet so strong, cut through her musing. This was real. This was the present. She was here with Aladdin and she was safe. 

“Al…” She leaned against him in a pitiful attempt at a hug and he was quick to wrap his arms around her. “It’s… it’s not much,” she said, voice muffled against him. “I’m overthinking, that’s all.” She would tell him about it later, she decided. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it? I won’t pressure you, but…” 

“Oh, you’re too good for me,” she said with a smile. 

“I try to be; you deserve it.” She could hear in his voice that he was smiling too. 

She sat there, pressed against him and savoring the contact, for a while. Between the ridiculous hour of the night and how fuzzy her brain was, she had no sense of time, so she didn’t know how long she stayed there. Once she felt grounded, she gradually pulled herself off of him and just looked at him. 

“I…” Aladdin started. “I might not know what’s wrong, but, I’ll… I just want to fix it for you. I want you to feel better. I’ll protect you.” 

“You’re doing a fine job.” 

“No, I — you need more.”

“It’s nothing you can fix, anyway.” 

“Is that a challenge?” he asked with that playful smirk she loved so much. 

Jasmine laughed just a little bit. “No, no, it’s between me and myself. I’m reading too far into things.” 

“Lay it on me.” 

She took a deep breath. The look in Aladdin’s eyes was genuine. He wanted to hear this. He wanted to talk it out with her. Maybe she just needed to verbalize her thoughts and get some feedback. Maybe she just needed the affirmation that it was horrible. 

“Okay. I’ve been thinking…”

**Author's Note:**

> yea i wanted to keep it short n sweet and also if i kept going it would have gotten rly repetitive. thanks for reading some thinly-veiled venting about my stepdad!!! i love u *kisses u on the forehead*


End file.
